


Against The Dying of Light

by Clairdelaluna



Series: Like Wishes in a Well [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU, M/M, Possibly Septiplier idk, Time Shenannigans, YouTubers - Freeform, more may be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7429413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairdelaluna/pseuds/Clairdelaluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the Guardian of Time, Mark didn't usually like to watch his friends' countdown timers. It was rude, and an invasion of privacy. When they died was none of his business, as long as he was there in the end to help them along that road. But that all changed when Daniel died. Now, with Jack's timer leaving him with a little over six months, Mark can't afford to not care; what's going on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Hearts of the Hopeless

**Author's Note:**

> Although this isn't my first fanfic, it is the first I've done in years and the first for real people. I got this idea from a reading your comments video, and then it kinda just... spread. I have an idea of where I want this to go but between work and videogames my upload schedule may be a little wonky. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it! I had a longer message at another time but I can't recall....

Mark, as a habit, didn’t generally like looking at his friends’ timelines. It was an invasion of privacy, in his mind, and anyways timelines were so very fickle. He could hint at something that would perhaps happen, only for it to, in the end, not happen at all. But privacy was the big thing; it wasn’t very polite to watch someone for illnesses or see when relationships would end and, really, he enjoyed living in the now. There had been a few lives he’d lived in which he’d remained in the Dark Room for that entire life – lives in which he remained outside of time and space (save for his own ticking clock because not even the Guardian of Time was exempt from aging) – but he didn’t enjoy it much. At least, not this version of himself.

By extension of this, he had trained his eyes to not watch the timers above people’s heads. Hey, as long as he was there when they did pass on, and as long as it didn’t royally fuck up everyone and everything around them, then when that person was due to die was none of his business. In the beginning, of course, he’d been unable to look away. He hadn’t understood at first, but it wasn’t long before he realised what those timers signified – he’d been in a hospital at the time, after all. And, so recently after his father’s death, it had become a sick fascination to watch the timers go by, and wonder if they would recognise him when he met them at the end. But that had been years ago now. He was occupied with other things, like Youtube and friends. And friends don’t watch friends’ death timers.

Or at least, he hadn’t until Daniel had died. 

It was one thing when his father had died. There had never been anything he could have done. He simply hadn’t had the abilities at the time. But Daniel? Daniel he could have saved, maybe. If he had just been watching, if he had just talked to him about what he was going through, if he had paid more attention… And so, now he did. And although he wasn’t too fond of fucking around with time save for when it benefitted him in a way he couldn’t refuse (and that didn’t count making sure his videos were uploaded on time because let's be real, when would that ever happen?), he wasn’t opposed to doing so if it meant saving his friends.

For the most part, however, that moral dilemma had never come up. Everything was fine, and life could continue on as normal. Mark forgave himself and, though he always kept an eye on the timers of those he loved, he was able to heal and recover. He was able to move on. His channel was growing exponentially and so was Jack’s; it wouldn’t be long, he couldn’t help but note with humour, before Jack had not only caught up but surpassed him in subscribers. And really, he couldn’t be more proud of him. If anyone deserved it, it was Jack.

He wouldn’t have called Jack his best friend. He wasn’t sure whom he would bestow that oh so gracious… there was a word here. Honour. That’s what it was. Perhaps Wade. Or Bob. He might have said Jesse, but he hadn’t spoken to the teacher in awhile. Maybe his brother. Regardless of it all, though, Jack was amongst some of his best friends, and he enjoyed any opportunity he got to see and collaborate with him. 

It was during Vidcon that he noticed it, despite its inherent hecticness being supplemented by the tragedy that had occurred shortly before. Security had been strict as all hell and Mark hadn’t had too much time to interact with Jack, what with him being added late to Vidcon and all. He should have noticed it during their filming, but maybe it hadn’t been weird then, or maybe he’d simply been too busy. Time could be fussy – forty years could be shortened to mere hours in the blink of an eye. Regardless, he hadn’t taken the time to notice until Funemployed. 

“Oh by the way, we’re not allowed to...” His breath caught in his throat, then, as he gazed at Jack. Not for any romantic sort of reason, but… it was only natural for his eyes to drift to the gold timer counting down above his head. But where he expected to see sixty years, or some-odd number… “Curse, or have—and by the way I was told this—“ but instead, the number was something much, much shorter. Six months, seventeen days, fifteen hours, twenty-three minutes and thirty-eight seconds. And that number was getting shorter and shorter. 

How long had his timer been like that? God, six months was so short…

But he couldn’t allow anyone to know. If Mark was honest, he didn’t even understand why, exactly, no human was allowed to know. It was just the unspoken rule. Besides, what would Jack even do? What would he say? What would Mark say? “hey, Jack, so by the way I kind of control Time and I know that’s super cool but hey uh you’re gonna die in six months. Oops?” That wouldn’t go over well, now would it?

But this was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was good. He could do this panel and then go back to his hotel room and everything was fine.

Six months, seventeen days, fifteen hours, twenty minutes and 12 seconds.

Everything wasn’t fine. Nothing was okay. He couldn’t lose another friend. He wouldn’t lose another friend. 

But still he smiled, and laughed, and tried to explain how he wanted to be Jack’s housewife. And Jack laughed, unaware of how close to death he really was. And Mark laughed, fighting back the tears that were threatening, burning beneath his lids. He’d never done well at holding back tears, but it was different now. He had to pretend that everything was okay, for Jack’s sake.

Was this how Daniel had felt?

He didn’t want to think about that. 

It wasn’t until much later that he was able to settle himself, alone finally in his room. Here, he allowed himself to enter the Dark. Ordinarily, he may have simply walked the path from the Dark to his place in the empty space, the void, whatever you may call it but, frankly, being left alone to walk in the ever pressing, all consuming darkness with nothing but his thoughts for company wasn’t appealing. So instead, he simply moved space around him, reaching the time stream in mere seconds.

It was here, he was better able to view Jack’s situation. And it was here that Mark’s blood ran cold.

“In every single one? Every one?! How is that even possible! That can’t be right!” 

Every single time line. Every frame, every ribbon or strand or grain of sand that Jack – that Sean William McLoughlin – had ever existed on, every parallel universe and even the ones not-so-parallel…. They all had the same date. In every time line, the day before was the same as it ever was. Nothing changed. Nothing. And then… invariably, at the same time on January 10th, 2017… It all went black. 

The cause of death was always different. Car crash, fire, murder, overdose, concussion, illness, deaths by ways that gave him a little too much déjà vu… his vision was swimming with nothing but death and sand.

“What… what am I supposed to do?”


	2. Time, Thy Name is Sorrow

The only bright side of this situation, if there even was a bright side, was that Jack wasn’t to leave the US for a couple days yet. And though he was staying with Matt and Ryan for the time being, they would still, obviously, be hanging out in the few days left they had. (Oh, that statement had a double edged meaning now…) The only problem would be convincing Jack to stay longer. Jack, after all, was incredibly motivated and dedicated to his fans – it was something Mark, with his admittedly erratic upload schedule and penchant for being late on more than the occasional day, could respect greatly. But it did pose a problem. If he couldn’t get him to stay… how could he monitor the timer?

What left him the most uneasy was how… unstable his timeline was. Especially in this universe. The universes were getting close – too close in some cases. And there were cracks in his stream; nothing that would cause any damage to time as a whole, but it did concern him. After all, just because there was a definitive date, didn’t mean there weren’t possibilities for earlier…. Dismissal. 

The other struggle? Appearing as if there wasn’t anything fatally wrong. Pretending like he wasn’t afraid he’d die any minute. Jack just couldn’t know. It was too dangerous. But it was like telling someone not to think about the white elephant – if you tell them not to think about something, that’s all they’ll be able to see and, now that he’d seen the timer, it was all he looked at sometimes when they were together.

How on earth would he even pull this off? 

It didn’t matter how. It just mattered that he did. He had to. There was no other option.

With a sigh of resolution, Mark exited the timestream and returned to his hotel room. He would make sure Jack survived. What was the use in being able to control time if he couldn’t save one of his best friends? He just had to pretend this was one of those survival horror games. Except the stakes were so much higher this time.

If push came to shove, he could probably call in a favour from Death, couldn’t he? Maybe get a hold of Luck, or Mercy. God only knew he could use their help right now. But what confused him was… why Jack? It was so unusual of time to target one individual like that, and to destroy them so completely from existence…. There had to be something at work here right? 

But before he could even begin to process all hat was going through his mind, his ears began to ring. It wasn’t too bad at first, the kind of ringing he might have said meant someone was talking about him (and, with how popular his channel was at this time, it was almost guaranteed that someone was talking about him, not that he was arrogant about it or anything, it was just a fact) had he been normal. However, it soon changed and deafened, suffocating any other noise before gradually becoming less of a ring and more the distraught murmur of voices pleading for more time.

His heart fell into his stomach. These were never fun. It was the worst part of his job, actually, but from what he could sense… it wasn’t so bad. Margeret Abernathy, aged eighty-four of natural causes. And while it sucked, there really wasn’t much that he could do about that. Not without consequences.

His vision swam and the world tilted dizzingly around him; no matter how many lifetimes he went through, he never seemed to get used to that feeling. The feeling of time and space moving around him, that was. The older woman, with wrinkles around her eyes and mouth (a smiler, it seemed), was surprised to see him and frankly, he couldn’t really blame her. People don’t usually pop up out of nowehere, especially not in long black cloaks littered with sparkling gold dust (sand?) holding some sort of staff. By now, he learned to stop questioning it but he could admit he seemed like some sort of anime character. Still, her surprise gave way to disappointment before long, a small frown pulling at her lips.

“Aw, dearie me is it time already? I’ve only just met my youngest grandchild…”

Mark sighed, though he offered her a warm smile and his arm, “yeah, it is. I’m sorry, s’time to go.”

Margeret nodded, accepting his arm with a gentle pat to his bicep. As she touched him, their surroundings faded – the hospital room with its various beeping machinery and crying family giving way to a dark room of empty space. At the far end was a large doorway that seemed infinitely big – though perhaps, with its huge ring displaying the cycle of the moon surrounding a swirling chasm of electric blue, portal would have been a more accurate description. All around them, images of memories flashed by in a film reel, encircled by the golden dust that seemed to make up this place. She watched this all with fascination before turning to Mark again, that same golden dust in his eyes, and in hers. “That’s my husband, William,” she said, pointing to an older gentleman as he rushed by, “he was always so charming, my Willy. Fought in the war, he did. I suppose I’ll get to see him soon, eh? That’s good, that’s real good. I’m glad. I miss him. You’ve got real gentle eyes, boy, that’s good. Real peaceful. Good of ‘im to send you. You’re a real good boy. D’ya have a name, or are y’just known as Death?”

Mark chuckled, scratching the back of his neck, “actually, ma’am, I’m Time. Not Death. Death’s just through that portal there, he’s nice though, so don’t be afraid and all that. Everything’ll be fine. He’ll show you where to go.” A pause, “and my name’s Mark.”

“Oh, I ain’t scared. When you get to my age, son, you learn not to fear Death. He’s just an old friend, reuinitin’ you to other old friends. And that’s a good name. A proud, good name. I named my son that. I’d show y’a picture but I don’t suppose I can, can I? Oh, there he goes! There’s my boy! Real good man, my boy, my Mark. Just like his father.”

Goodness, she was a talker. But Mark liked her, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her excitement, listening as she rambled on with stories about her three sons, and her one little girl. And of course her grandkids, one of which whom had just been born. It was endearing. But before long, the timeline seemed to reach the end, and they stood before the doorway. Already, he could see her fracturing and splintering, though whether she was aware of this, he couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was something only people like him could see. But this was good. This meant she should have been an easy one for Death, one that wouldn’t pose a problem or try and run off. Nah, she’d go peacefully onto the third stage, he betted. 

“Oh, are we here already?”

Mark nodded, hugging the older woman gently and with affection, “yeah, it’s time to go now, Margeret. Death’s on the other side, he’s waiting for you and like you said, he’s just an old friend. He’s a real nice guy,” actually Mark had never been allowed to meet him but, “and then he’ll show you onto the next and final,” or so he assumed, “stage.”

“Thank ya Mark, you be good now. You’re doing good things.” What an odd thing to say. But Spirits always got a little weird near the doorway anyways. Seemed to know things they probably shouldn’t. “Bye now!” 

And she was gone.

Once more, his vision swam around him only this time, it landed him back in his body and in his hotel room. He stood and immediately sat down again as his vision blacked out on him, a pulse in his ears and head both. Right. Always, always with the vertigo bullshit. A low grumbled growl escaped as he tried to stand once more, grabbing his phone. He still had every intention of chilling with his friends tonight, so he’d have to eat something and get his stupid body back in order first.

Actually, maybe they could go out for dinner, now that he thought about it. He’d probably be able to keep an eye on Jack through that too. But first…

> [SMS: Send To:] Jackaboy  
>  \- Hey what say you stay here longer than a week?  
>  \- You could always record here ykno  
>  \- It’d be lit fam

It would never work. But a guy could hope, couldn’t he? And hope was all that he had right now. Hope that everything would turn out okay. Everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad you guys seem to be liking this so far :D I was going to post this tomorrow but I figured I may as well post it today. If you haven't noticed yet, all titles are actually lines from poetry (and it will soon be evident that I am pretty fond of Robert Frost's imagery) which, admittedly, makes life more difficult for me or it will down the line. Ah well. Not sure what else to say. Hopefully I'm writing Mark okay, and I realised I probably fucked up (would he have stayed in a hotel room at vidcon? oh well hah) also should I add major character death? Since it plays with themes of Jack dying. Idk. Also here's kinda what the doorway looked like. 
> 
> http://allformusic.net/assets/files/2013/10/1115.jpg


	3. An update of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little note

Sorry I haven't been to posting lately. There are a couple reasons though. I'm working full time and I'm also in classes again and though classes aren't particularly hard, they're time consuming. Factor in depression and it's rather hard to keep writing. That said, I haven't dropped this story, it's still floating around in my head. However, I may have to go back and rework a few things. Part of why I haven't been able to write chapter three is that while I have the middle and end planned it's a little difficult to get them to that point, and I may have to alter the format I've written this in to make it work a bit easier. I was always told that if you can't bear to write something new, then there's something that you need to go back and fix. 

So just bear with me <3 I'm glad everyone's enjoying this thus far. Hopefully I'll have something new before too long.


End file.
